Goodbye forever
by HungerGamesFtw
Summary: My version of District 12's reaping for 74th annual Hunger Games, where Prim's name is still picked out...but Katniss doesn't volunteer. One shot, please review, sorry to any Prim fans


"Primrose Everdeen", Effie Trinket trills in her irritating, yet highly contagious Capitol accent.

My heart stops as the words sink in, each individual syllable a vicious stab, a twisting knife gouging my stomach, creating a tormenting pain worse than death itself. Prim. My Prim.

I don't understand, can't comprehend how this could happen. It's her first year, and I didn't allow her to take any tesserae, so her name was only in there once, one insignificant, unimportant slip of paper out of hundreds, thousands. How did this happen?

It feels surreal; there's a continuous ringing in my ears, like I've just come out of an explosion. I feel dizzy, like I'm going to faint and I'm vaguely aware of a reassuring hand on my arm, as if there to hold me up, hold me together. Only nothing can hold me together now, because the two words, my sisters name, is cutting my up into pieces, tiny, countless pieces and I'm pretty certain right now that I'll never be able to put them back together again.

Behind the tears that blur my vision, I can make out Prim's delicate, vulnerable figure, slowly, shakily, uncertainly making her way up towards the stage, to where Effie waits with a superficial smile on her face, completely unaware, or perhaps uncaring, of the devastation she's just caused. Of the life her and her stupid Capitol friends are stealing from District 12.

I know there's something I should do, something I should say but I just can't function, can't force my mouth and brain to work together. All I know is I'm mad, furious at the Capitol. And that I'm scared because I hadn't even contemplated the possibility that Prim would go into the arena until now- because the chance just seemed too miniscule to even bother thinking about. But Effie called her name. Didn't she? I'm still doubting the sincerity of the whole situation because it still seems too unreal, impossible.

My Father was blown up in a mine explosion, my Mother as useless as a dead goldfish, and my family are practically on the verge of starvation. And now this? How cruel could fate be, how much more could it take from me?

Then my resolve thickens, and I know, in one split second exactly what I have to do. There is no time to think about it anymore, I have to save her, because life just isn't worth living without her. I made a promise to protect her forever, and that is exactly what I must do now.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Effie trills.

"I volunteer". Everyone stops and turns to stare. "I volunteer as tribute" I say, with more force this time, trying to free myself from the grips of the Peacekeepers engulfing me.

"My dear," replies Effie in a voice as sweet as honey, yet as sharp as lemon at the same time, evident shock lacing her exclamation. "It's too late for that, I asked for volunteers for the girls moments ago...Unless of course you wanted to volunteer for dear Peeta here, although I'm pretty sure that is not strictly allowed!" She adds a light laugh onto the end of this, as if this matter of life and death is some huge joke to her. Which it probably is.

I am confused for a moment, but then I begin to recall it. The words are hazy, as if I'm hearing them underwater. While my ears were ringing in shock from hearing Prim's name being announced, Effie had, as she claimed, asked for volunteers. Prim, stood on the stage shaking, had received the same reaction tributes from District 12 get every year-nothing, silence. Damn it! Why had I not thought to volunteer straight away, when she'd asked? Why had I not been listening at such a crucial moment? And now Peeta Mellark stands on the stage next to Effie and Prim, a mixture of confusion at my outburst and shock and terror at his name having just been chosen as the boy tribute for the 74th annual Hunger Games. It was him Effie had been referring to when she'd just requested any volunteers.

"I'm sorry," I stutter "but I was...I was shocked...please, I want to volunteer as the female tribute", I beg, desperately fighting my way toward the stage where Prim is sobbing, screaming at me not to do it, not to volunteer in her place. But I have to. "Let me go!" I scream "I volunteer!"

But Effie won't accept. She tells me, with a note of hysteria to her voice at the unfurling trouble I'm causing, that it is too late. That the time has passed for me to volunteer. That whilst she appreciates my courage and 'good-spirit' she cannot allow me to take Prim's place anymore. That "Rules are rules, dear".

I thrash forward, hurling punches and kicks in a desperate frenzy at any peacekeeper I can reach, but it's no use. They're stronger than me, and slowly, I am dragged backward, further and further away from Prim.

Then Gale is there too, pushing back the Peacekeepers, telling them he can take me from here. At first I think he's going to help me, because Gale of all people understands what Prim means to me, why I need to do this to save her. But he doesn't. Instead he whispers in my ear, "Give up Catnip, it's too late, come on". And then he's dragging me away too, and I can't even fight it anymore. My knees feel weak and I crumble against Gale, sobs tearing through my body. I failed. I couldn't protect her. I am as useless as my Mother was after the mine explosion. I do not know how I will live with this, because I know that little Prim, innocent, 12 year old Prim who can't kill a rabbit to eat without getting teary and scared, has absolutely no chance of winning these sadistic games. She is dead. And it's my fault.

Now that I've calmed down, externally, at least, they'll allow me to see Prim one last time up in the justice building. As soon as they open the door, I rush over to her and enfold her in the protecting circle of my arms, closing my eyes, and for just one sweet second, I can imagine that I can keep her there forever, where nothing will ever hurt her. But then I pull back, and hold her face in my hands, a few centimetres away from my own.

"Prim, I am so sorry, you have to understand that I wanted to volunteer, I wanted to save you." I'd began with an artificial strength in my voice- I had to stay strong now, to give her confidence, but when she started to protest, my resolve weakened and silent tears of guilt and self-hatred trickled down my cheeks. "I know you can do this Prim, you just run as fast as you can and hide, climb a tree, and hide from them for as long as you can. And when the time comes...just remember that it's not the same as killing the innocent animals here in the woods, this is different- you have to do this to survive and I know it'll be hard but everyone will forgive you. Prim, look at me, you have to win because... I don't know how I will go on if you don't."

She listens to the latter part of this in silence, holding back her tears in an effort to stay strong, just like I said, but I can see the undiluted terror in her eyes.

"I love you and I know you can do this" I say, willing my tears to reside and my eyes not to give away my doubt.

My Mom hugs her then, squeezing her close to her fragile body with sobs bursting free.

Then they're there, the Peacekeepers, telling us it's time to go. The three of us cling to each other for as long as we can, muttering final words of love and hope through tears that fall openly now, until we are pulled from the room and the door is slammed in our faces, leaving Prim alone again.

That evening, while the other families are celebrating with a meal that can be called extravagant compared to the norm of District 12, we, my Mother and I, sit together on the bed with the shutters blocking out the last of the evening light. When I'd woken up this morning, I'd never imagined this would be happening- there was a part of me that dreaded my name would be picked, but never did I expect to be sat here at home, one of the two families that would not be joining in the relief of not having a member sentenced to imminent death. I want to cry, but I can't find the tears. I want to be optimistic, to truly believe my final words of encouragement to little Prim but I can't summon the strength. I can't lie to myself.

My Mother reaches out then to take my hand in hers. At first, I start and move involuntarily to draw my hand away from this alien gesture; my and my Mother haven't been close since my Father died. I've never forgiven her for the way she withdrew from us, left me and Prim to starve to death- which we would've if it weren't for me. But I fight my gut reaction and allow this small gesture of comfort. It feels good, to have her warmth wrapped around my fingers, to know that I'm not the only one hurting right now. Because me and her may not be close, but she loves Prim dearly, I know that, and she is suffering right now as much as me.

And so we sit there, Mother and daughter reunited, in silence, the unspoken words a show of our devastation. Blank and deserted of life, her blue eyes stare continuously at the wall, her thumb making soothing circular motions on the back of my hand automatically, naturally. She is gone again, I can tell, just like when Dad died. But this time, I don't blame her. This time I can't hate her. Because I feel like that too. I feel like a zombie, indescribably tired, aching, depressed. I feel like there is an immeasurable torrent of black water, icy cold and relentless, pushing down on me, drowning me in an ocean of despair.

Nausea overwhelms me as I face the prospect of what the next few weeks will bring. Of having to watch my little sister be tortured to death. Live on the television. Goodbye forever, Prim.


End file.
